


Merry Fucking Christmas

by fade_away



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas AU, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pining, snowed in au, these boys :’)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fade_away/pseuds/fade_away
Summary: Ronan and Adam (not friends) get snowed in at a B&B in Maine. Adam would be lucky to make it out alive.





	Merry Fucking Christmas

“Well,” Ronan said, throwing his bags across the room. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

They were supposed to be at the Gansey’s cabin right now, schmoozing with Republicans and laughing at their politics when they walked away. But this was Maine, and there was the Nor’easter, unexpected but not unusual. What _was_ unusual, however, was that Adam and Ronan were stuck together at a tiny bed and breakfast miles away from Gansey, forced into a one bed suite, and already at each other’s throats. 

Adam didn’t think he’d survive the blizzard. 

“If Gansey hadn’t made me wait to come up here until it was convenient for _you_ , we wouldn’t be here right now,” Adam snarled. “I was supposed to be at his place last night, but oh no, Lynch has to stay another day to keep an eye on his new calf!” 

Ronan whirled around to face him. His perfect fucking rich people teeth were barred, like he was a dog. “Don’t act like you had the money for a plane ticket, Trailer Park,” he said, and Adam wanted to punch those teeth right in. Ronan glared daggers at him, eyes electric. 

Ronan and Adam weren’t friends. In fact, they barely even knew each other. Brought together only by Gansey’s diplomatic streak, Adam had rarely even seen Ronan outside of parties and fundraisers. Didn’t even know Ronan was a farmer until Gansey explained to him that he had a cow giving birth a week before Christmas and would have to stay home and keep an eye on her. The only thing that Adam knew about Ronan for certain was that he was a veritable asshole. He was cold, and mean, and outright vicious when he wanted to be, which was always. And Gansey explained time and time again that Ronan was grieving, Ronan lost his father, Ronan’s life was so hard, et cetera, but having a hard life didn’t make Adam a shithead, so why should that excuse Ronan’s attitude?

Adam wouldn’t let himself stoop to Ronan’s level, but given the opportunity, he would _definitely_ knock him on his ass. Not that Adam thought he had a sliver of a chance in a fight with Ronan; where Adam was bone and sinew, Ronan was toned muscle. But Adam could probably get a few hits in, if he tried. And that was a comforting thought. 

“Fuck you,” Adam said. “You are such a dick. I don’t know what Gansey sees in you.” And that was that. Ronan threw himself down in the middle of the bed without even taking his shoes off and closed his eyes. 

Adam wanted to wipe the smirk right off of his mouth. 

—

Four hours later, Adam had planted himself in the living room of the B&B, in an old, cushy recliner. There was a fireplace warming the room, with framed photos of the employees on the mantle. Flannel blankets and big, overstuffed pillows covered every available surface; Adam couldn’t decide if it was charming or if it looked like it came out of a Bass Pro catalogue. Truth be told, this shouldn’t be bad. The B&B was cozy, there seemed to be plenty to do (God knew there was always homework to be doing), and Adam _really_ only had to be in the room to sleep. How was that going to work, anyway? There was only one bed, they didn’t have a couch, so most likely one of them would be on the floor. Most likely _Adam_ would be on the floor. Ronan wasn’t the type to do something nice for anyone but himself. 

At least his book was interesting. Gansey had goaded him into taking a mythology class with him, and he’s been flipping through the textbook for entertainment. That class was actually where they met Blue, Gansey’s current girlfriend. And, of course, the TA, Noah, became a fast friend. Gansey was capable of picking up friends wherever he went, which could either be infuriating or extremely rewarding. In the cases of Blue and Noah, it was the latter. But, there was Henry Cheng, too, who Gansey had met in a Women’s Studies class. Gansey was taking it to supplement his knowledge of women’s roles through history for his thesis on some dead Welsh king’s daughter, but Cheng was taking it to pick up a date or two. Of course, Gansey had to find him charming, so Adam had to sit through lunch after lunch with Cheng describing his endless, half thought out philosophies and charities. It had gotten to the point where Blue and Adam would place bets on how many times Cheng could say things like “for the betterment of our society,” in one lunch period. Sometimes, they could pull Noah in, too, despite his protests and guilt. 

No one was really 100% sure where Gansey had picked Ronan up from, but it was clear that their connection was older and deeper than any of Gansey’s other relationships. Blue and Henry actually thought they were dating for a while, but then Gansey’s affections fell into Blue’s lap like a lonely puppy that just wouldn’t leave, and so she kept him. 

_help_ Adam texted Blue. _stuck in a one bed w/ lynch. not happy._

She replied almost instantly. _at least ur not trying to explain that u come from a family of psychics to a bunch of old white men._

_fair_

_yeah. still sucks ur stuck with him tho. any idea when u’ll be out?_

_weatherman says it’s a noreaster so idk. probably snow for three or so days, then stuck for idk how long. roads weren’t salted._

_shit_

_im fucked. idk how im going to survive. if lynch doesnt kill me ill kill myself_

_not funny._

_sorry_ a message blinked up at him, warning him that his phone was on 20%. He hadn’t brought his charger down with him. _shit wish me luck i gotta go_

_dont leave me with the conservatives_

_at least you have dick iii to buffer. im screwed._ With that, he turned his phone off and stuck it in his pocket. The clock on the wall above the fireplace told him it was about 5:30. They were supposed to be eating dinner at the Gansey’s half an hour ago. There probably would have been ham, and duck, and lobster rolls… Mashed potatoes, salad, deviled eggs, pasta, stuffing, and more desserts than he could even imagine would likely make appearances as well. As if responding to Adam’s thoughts, his stomach growled, empty and anxious. He was assured upon check in that there would be a complimentary breakfast served at 8 AM, but what about dinner? Looking around, he found a couple vending machines, but the dining room was locked up and there were no lights on anywhere else. So much for a good Christmas dinner. With what little change he had in his pocket, he bought a bottle of generic cola and a couple granola bars, figuring they would tide him over until morning. 

Should he get something for Ronan? Fuck that guy, he wouldn’t get anything for Adam. 

He didn’t want to go back to the room, but he needed his phone charger, and he wanted to knock out an assignment or two before the day was over. 

Fully expecting to see Ronan lounging around in his underwear or something, Adam was pleasantly surprised to find the room empty. He got right to work and pounded out a five paragraph essay for his Latin class, then started in on some research for his own dissertation. The Georgetown graduate program had been kicking his ass, but he knew he’d be better for it in the long run. Initially, he’d wanted a degree in law, but it didn’t take long for him to switch to classical studies and get a minor in anthropology. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. The only valid career he could think of along his degree would be a professor, but he couldn’t help dreaming of galavanting around the world with Gansey and Blue, hunting for treasure and starting museums. 

By the time he had nearly bored himself to death, it was well past eight o’clock. Ronan still wasn’t in the room, so Adam took a quick shower and got in bed. If Ronan was going to stay out all night, Adam wasn’t going to stop him. It had been a long day, and the blizzard was unrelenting. The snow chased any errant noise away, so the room was dead quiet. Adam was asleep almost as soon as he hit the mattress. 

—

Around two in the morning, the door knob moved. Adam, who has been sound asleep, jerked awake. Heart pounding, he sat up in bed and listened for another shake. Even though logic dictated that it wasn’t possible for his father to be here right now, he had that sick, nauseous feeling that he got before a beating. The door knob jiggled again, and Adam jumped out of bed. He felt around the nightstand for his phone. The floorboards creaked as he crept through the room, and he cursed himself for forgetting how to move soundlessly. For forgetting how to be completely invisible. Eventually, he got himself as close to the door as he dared and looked through the peephole. If it was an intruder standing in the hall, Adam was screwed. He didn’t have anything other than his phone on him. To his surprise, it was just Ronan. 

Just Ronan. 

He let out an embarrassingly audible sigh and unlocked the door. Ronan turned the knob again and stumbled in. 

“Shit,” he cursed. “Turn on a fucking light, would you?” He was looking right at Adam, squinting through the dark. Adam, whose heart was still thumping wildly in his chest, flipped on the lights. It was too bright for both of them. Ronan groaned at the brightness; Adam just flinched and tried not to show his discomfort. Stumbling toward the bathroom, Ronan shrugged out of his pea coat as Adam shut and locked the door. 

Just Ronan. Nobody to be afraid of. 

Despite his misgivings, Adam picked up Ronan’s coat and folded it, placing it on the small desk he’d worked at earlier. It reeked heavily of alcohol and cologne. 

“Jesus Christ,” Adam remarked. “You’re piss drunk.” 

“That,” Ronan started, pausing to retch. “I am.”

God, if anything, that just made Adam dislike him _more_.

“Where did you even find a bar?” Adam asked. Was that where Ronan was all night? 

“Trunk of my car.”

Adam wanted to be disgusted, but he was too tired. “Just fucking- just clean up after yourself. I’m not taking care of you.” He went back to the bed and climbed in, listening (without meaning to) for the bathroom door. Keeping his eyes closed for more than a few seconds at a time made him think about things he didn’t want to think about, like the last Christmas he spent with his parents back in Henrietta. Which. Was a mess, to say the least. Whatever. It’s not like any of that shit could happen now. Just because Ronan was wasted didn’t mean that he would become violent. 

Just Ronan. Nobody to be afraid of. Not Robert Parrish. 

He forced himself to count seconds between breaths to occupy his mind. When he was getting his bachelor’s, some of the Psych kids on his floor were doing an experiment about panic attacks. Adam Parrish, basically anxiety on wheels, was a prime subject. They’d told him that the best way to stave off the wave of hyperventilation and crying was to measure his breathing. In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight. In four hold seven out eight. 

The bathroom door opened and closed, not gentle, but not hard. Adam held his breath. 

Ronan slid into bed beside him.

What the fuck? What the fuck, Jesus Christ, what the actual fuck-

Ronan put his cold fucking feet on Adam’s legs. Adam knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get the bed to himself, wasn’t he? He was just being a dick for fun. Well, no way was Adam Parrish going to fold tonight. Absolutely not. No. Adam was going to hold his ground and stay in this bed. Hell, Ronan had forfeited his right to the bed when he sat in his car and got _drunk_ for however long he’d been gone. Fuck him. 

Adam kicked his foot away and rolled over. This was going to be a long, long stay.

—

When Adam woke up, he was alone. Which, frankly, was a relief. He didn’t want to have to deal with Ronan bitching about being hungover. He checked the time- almost eight. So, he picked up his laptop and went down to the dining room. By the time he got a table, the buffet had opened, so he left his stuff and got a plate. The food was nothing special, just scrambled eggs and stuff, but there was an espresso machine that caught Adam’s attention. All he had to do was press a button and wait for his cup to fill. This was actually really, really nice. He hadn’t expected good coffee, let alone espresso, but. Here he stood, with his little cup of surprises. 

Unfortunately, what sat at his table wasn’t such a grand discovery. Ronan Lynch, dressed stylishly in his stupid ripped jeans and his stupid wool sweater and his stupid shaved head was sat (uninvited!) in Adam’s seat, bouncing his leg like he was stomping something to death. Adam measured his breathing like the Psych students taught him. 

“Good morning, inebriate, what the fuck do you want?” Adam said, as sweetly as he could manage as he slid into the other seat. Ronan ducked his head and bit his lip.

“To apologize, believe it or not,” he muttered. If he caught Adam’s shock, he didn’t make it obvious. “It was fucked up of me to show up drunk last night, and to make you share the bed with me. I’m sorry.”

“No, ‘It won’t happen again’?” In all honesty, the snark wasn’t necessary, but it pleased Adam to no end to watch Ronan shift uncomfortably. “No, ‘Sorry, Adam, I won’t scare the shit out of you at two in the morning because I’m drunk off my gourd again’?”

“Can’t guarantee that, no.” The strain in Ronan’s voice made Adam irrationally angry. 

“Come on, Lynch, is _not getting wasted_ really that hard?” With that, Ronan clenched his jaw and pushed himself back from the table, standing up. He cut an impressive figure, but Adam refused to be intimidated.

“You don’t know shit, Parrish,” Ronan spat. He took one final scathing look at Adam before stomping out of the dining room, leaving Adam alone to enjoy his coffee in peace. This was shaping up to be an eventful morning. 

He sipped his coffee while he worked, putting Ronan Lynch out of his head for the time being. He still hadn’t been able to decide what to do his dissertation on, but he hoped to get that worked out by the end of his stay. Maybe being snowed in really was a good thing- it gave him ample time to work. Reading essays from alums helped a little, but not enough. The dissertation would most likely have to do with mythology, just because that would be easy for him right now, and it was interesting enough to keep his attention. He considered texting Gansey for advice, but figured he’d be busy taking care of whatever rich people had to take care of the morning after Christmas. Wikipedia proved to be useless, as did all of the academic research tools he had access to through Georgetown’s library. He needed to nail down a topic before the end of winter break. Scholarships were in jeopardy. A ripple of anxiety worked its way through Adam’s system- what if he was making a mistake? Maybe he should have just stayed with law; a dissertation in law would be easy: don’t be a criminal. But classical studies? It would almost certainly have to be tied back to Latin, which knocked out some of the Greek myths. He couldn’t totally steal Gansey’s idea and write his dissertation on an obscure European figure lost to time and mystery. He kept coming back around to the anthropology, to the myths and legends and the humanity of them. The longer Adam stared at his laptop, the more anxious he became. Soon enough, his hands were shaking and he had to force himself to close the lid. He stood and got a plate of fruit and pastries, along with another espresso, and decided that he had had enough school for the day. 

Soon after he finished breakfast, Adam got a call from Gansey. And, even though the blizzard was definitely still coming down, he took the call outside. Cold air did him good, sometimes, and he was desperate to shake the weirdness left over from breakfast.

“Merry Christmas, Gans, sorry we couldn’t make it up yesterday,” he started.

“Are you guys okay? Ronan seemed pretty upset when I talked to him yesterday.” In the background, Adam could hear idle chatter. 

“Lynch? No way. I’m pretty sure the only emotion he knows is rage.” Adam pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. He’d have to go to the thrift store soon- most of his clothes were starting to look a little threadbare. 

“Adam, why won’t you give him a chance? He’s a magnificent person.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it. Name one good deed he’s done in the past year,” Adam said. He’s had too much fun poking bears recently.

“Well, he offered to bring you up to my place, for starters,” Gansey replied. “He knew you wouldn’t be able to afford a place ticket, so he called me and asked if I thought it was a good idea.”

“You’re saying that it was _Lynch’s_ idea to drive me?” Adam asked, positively dumbfounded.

“Yes, I believe that is what I said. I- I know I can’t force you two to get along, but I thought the ride from D.C. up to our cabin would be good for you guys. I’m sorry if I misjudged your maturity.” Well, shit. There’s nothing like a good Gansey guilt trip to wake a guy up.

“Jesus, Gans. We just don’t mesh, okay? I can’t just, like, make a beautiful friendship happen. That’s not- that’s not how this works.” Shaking his arms to warm them up a little, Adam waited for the guilt to pass. It would. It had to.

“I know. I know. Just try, for me?” There was a clatter in the background. “Shit. I have to go, Adam, but call me if you need anything. Merry Christmas.”

“Bye, Gansey,” Adam said, but Gansey had already hung up.

Adam stood on the porch for a while, processing. So, Ronan had offered to drive him up to Gansey’s winter home? That seemed highly unlikely, but Gansey didn’t make a habit of lying unless he absolutely needed to. It was out of character for Ronan to do anything nice at all, as far as Adam was aware. But. Here they are, stuck at a B&B together that Adam was unsure he’d be able to afford. Jesus. The snow was still coming down heavily, and along with the snow was the typical Nor’easter wind. It blew right through Adam. When he finally dragged himself inside, he was thoroughly chilled and confused enough to feel like exploding. 

—

The rest of the day passed like this: Adam read by the fire in his recliner and avoided Ronan. Ronan did whatever the hell people like him did when left alone. Adam texted Gansey, Blue, and Noah, and tried to stop thinking about what Ronan meant during breakfast this morning when he said he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t get drunk again. Despite swearing off of school for the day, he did more research while ignoring the little part of his brain that was wondering about why Ronan had seemed like he was in so much turmoil this morning. 

By the time he was ready for bed, he was beyond tired of thinking about Ronan Lynch. He wanted to be back in D.C., back in his tiny apartment, back at his job in the library, helping undergrads and shelving books. Even with everything he hated about D.C., he would still rather be there than stuck in this damn bed and breakfast with Ronan. 

He told himself he would only think about Ronan when absolutely necessary. Of course, nothing ever went the way Adam planned.

When he got back to the room, there was a singular moment of terror when Ronan wasn’t in his immediate line of vision. Distantly, though, he registered the sound of the shower, and felt himself deflate. He changed into more suitable sleeping clothes and monopolized the bed, dead set on keeping it for himself tonight. But then Ronan came out of the bathroom and he was flushed and didn’t look so miserable and. Well. Adam went a little weak in the knees.

“Move over, Trailer Park,” Ronan snapped. Adam forgot all about his momentary weakness. 

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. 

“Come on, man,” Ronan said. Adam raised his eyebrows. “Either you move, or I move you.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Adam snarled, suddenly very aware of his own body and too cognizant of his past. In four hold seven out eight. In four hold seven out eight. There is damage, and there is _damage_ , and Adam was the unfortunate canvas for both. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” 

Just Ronan. Nobody to be afraid of.

Ronan, to Adam’s surprise, backed off. Maybe it was because Adam was actually crazy, or maybe it was because Ronan was a decent person. Either way seemed like a bad thing to Adam. Ronan stood awkwardly while Adam waited for his chest to stop heaving. It was perhaps one of the most uncomfortable moments of his relatively short life. 

“Are- are you okay?” Ronan asked. He had the world’s worst grimace on his face.

“I’m _fine_. Take the damn bed if you want it so badly. Jesus Christ. I’m going to shower.” To save himself from having to look at Ronan anymore, Adam (who was not intending to take a shower) got out of the stupid bed and went to the bathroom. He showered quickly and spent the whole time thinking about how embarrassing he was. Jesus. Honestly, would he ever stop making a fool of himself? 

Ronan was sitting on the edge of the bed when Adam came out. Immediately, Adam wished he had stayed in the bathroom for the rest of the night. 

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. It felt wrong to apologize to Ronan. “I didn’t mean to freak out like that. It was… uncalled for.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need the bed. I was just being a dick.” Sheepishly, Ronan looked up at Adam. 

“We can share, it’s really not a big deal.” 

“Are you sure? I- you were kind of freaked out about me, like, touching you earlier, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”

“Just take the offer, Lynch,” Adam said. His patience was wearing thin. Whatever he had been feeling a few minutes ago was gone. 

Ronan kind of nodded, and it was enough that Adam knew he wasn’t going to try to argue about it. They each took a side of the bed, and Adam turned off the lamp. In the dark, he didn’t feel so weird about listening carefully to the world around him. He measured his breaths and waited for Ronan’s breathing to slow, or for the palpable feeling of relaxation Adam knew indicated sleep. It never came. Beside him, Ronan was obviously awake. 

“Why the fuck are you still awake, Parrish?”

“Why the fuck are _you_ still awake, Lynch?”

“I have insomnia. Your turn.” Something softened inside Adam, something small and cold that he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto.

“I was waiting for you to fall asleep.”

“Oh,” Ronan breathed, and it was shaped like hope. Adam rolled over to look at him. His eyes were wide open, not closed as he would have expected. That small cold thing inside him softened again, and he wanted to put his fist through the wall.

“Oh,” Adam said. Communication was not his strong suit. They blinked at each other for a while, the space between them cavernous and infinitesimal all at once. The way Ronan was looking at him lit him up from the inside out. He didn’t think he’d ever sleep again. This was bad.

“Adam-” Ronan started, but cut himself off. “Go to sleep.”

Adam, who had been expecting something deep and heavy, bit out a sharp laugh. “You’re so goddamn insufferable.”

Ronan didn’t respond, so Adam figured the conversation was over. He laid there, listening for Ronan’s calm, until he drifted into a restless sleep.

—

He woke to an empty bed, which shouldn’t have hurt but did. He wanted to strangle Gansey for making him Feel Things About Ronan. On the bedside table was a cup of espresso and a note. _you missed breakfast today but I thought you might want coffee. gross._ Rolling his eyes seemed like the appropriate thing to do, but the coffee was also kind of a nice gesture, right? He shouldn’t be feeling torn about how to respond to Ronan Lynch. Ronan Lynch was not a nice person. Adam needed to stick to his principles. 

Where was Ronan, anyway?

Even with hearing loss, Adam would have been able to hear the shower running, so he wasn’t in there. A quick glance around the room didn’t really tell Adam anything, either. Ronan’s keys were on the desk, where he left them. His coat was hung over the back of the desk chair. His sweater was gone, but that didn’t mean anything, because Adam couldn’t recall ever seeing him without a sweater or some other outer layer on. Which was odd, because he knew for a fact that Ronan had a nice body, so why try to hide it? But that didn’t really matter anyway, because Adam would not (could not) like Ronan in any scope of the word. He would rather freeze to death. 

His phone told him it was after nine, but not yet ten, so breakfast shouldn’t be over. Had Ronan really brought him coffee anticipating that he would sleep in? That was… borderline nice.

Again, he wanted to strangle Gansey. This was probably just Ronan’s passive aggressive way of saying that he thought Adam was lazy. He debated drinking the coffee for much longer than what would be considered reasonable, but cracked in the end and drank it. 

It was worth it, principles be damned.

—

“So… Coffee,” Blue said when Adam explained what was going on. “You’re having a crisis over a cup of coffee.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Adam hissed, embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that.”

“It sounds to me like he’s trying to be nice and you’re just being stubborn,” Blue replied, all casual, like this was easy. 

“I can’t- I _won’t_ like him, Blue. It goes against everything I believe in.”

“You like Gansey,” she pointed out. “And _he_ likes Ronan. Hell, Noah likes Ronan, and Noah can’t even stand hypothetical conflict. I don’t understand what the big deal is. Oh, this isn’t a money thing, is it? I thought you said the breakfast was included.”

“Yes, it’s complimentary, and _no_ , it’s not a money thing!” He took a moment to breathe. “Listen, Blue. I’m rarely wrong about people. I knew I would love you after looking at you _once_. Don’t- don’t try to make this a feminist thing, okay, I know I objectified you, but we’ve been over it before. I’ve just always gotten a weird feeling about Lynch. He’s not nice, like, at all.”

“ _I’m_ not nice,” Blue said. “And since when does ‘nice’ matter? Maybe you just think he’s hot, Adam, ever think of that?”

“ _What?_ ” Adam practically shrieked. “I do not think Ronan Lynch is hot. What the _fuck_ , Blue?” Did he think Ronan was hot? He didn’t think Ronan was hot. But did he?

“Okay, whatever, no need to get so defensive.” She sighed, and Adam could almost see her rubbing her eyes. “God. Forgive me for offering a possible explanation, Mr. Toxic Masculinity.” 

“Blue. Come on. You don’t like him either,” Adam reminded her, feeling triumphant. 

“Yeah, but I happen to have a very good reason.”

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

“He calls me ‘maggot’.”

“That’s just how he is, Blue. I already said he’s not nice.”

“Listen, Adam, we’re talking in circles here. I don’t even remember why you called me. I love you and everything, but this is ridiculous. You are allowed to be friends with people you didn’t like.” Aaaand she hung up. Adam, feeling illogically angry, went downstairs to get something for breakfast. 

Ronan was at his table. This just pissed Adam off even more. 

“Oh, hey,” Ronan said upon seeing Adam. He had been on his phone, but he put it away once Adam began approaching.

“Got a secret in there, Lynch?” Adam asked, gesturing to the cell phone. 

“Just some asshole back at home. Won’t leave me alone.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Drug dealer.” This was a shock to Adam. Ronan Lynch, Catholic extraordinair, doing drugs? Never in a million years would he have guessed it. “I never bought from him, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s just a piece of shit I went to high school with.”

“Oh,” Adam said, and it must have come out like relief because Ronan cracked a rare smile. 

“Did you get your coffee?” Ronan asked. Something in his eyes made Adam want to believe he had no ulterior motive.

“Yeah, it was… it was good.” Were they really doing this? This was a real, honest conversation, right? And they weren’t ready to kill each other yet? “Thanks.”

“Mm.” Ah, there it was, the classic Lynch disinterest. 

“I’m going to get some food. Do you- um, want anything?” Adam was trying, really trying.

“No, I already ate.” And like that, the conversation was over. It struck Adam as wholly ridiculous that it had even lasted that long.

That night, they shared the bed without arguing over it. 

—

Adam wasn’t any closer to getting his topic. It was day five of being snowed in. Day four had seen no new snow, but it would likely be a few more days before they could leave. The wind still whipped around outside, and the sun had melted just enough snow to turn it into ice. He was also no closer to understanding Ronan Lynch, which was becoming increasingly problematic. 

Gansey thought it was wonderful that they were getting along. Blue thought they were gay for each other. Noah remained obstinately quiet on the matter. 

Against his better judgement, Adam decided to pack up early and head upstairs. There was a television that he hadn’t explored yet, and he wanted to clear his head before diving back in. Ronan was in the bathroom when Adam got back. The room was actually really nice; bedside tables on both sides of the bed, a flat screen tv, little desk and chair, and a window with a view that would have been great if it hadn’t snowed for the past three days. Adam just hoped it wouldn’t cost him too much. He had been too furious to catch the numbers when they checked in, only that the last room available had a single bed. But, now that he was feeling much less angry, he could appreciate the niceties available to him. He liked that the room was cozy, with a thick quilt on the bed instead of a cheap, itchy comforter and nice, clean smelling sheets. He liked that it was quiet; of course, he had run into the other guests on numerous occasions, but everyone seemed nice enough and no one bothered him. Most of all, he liked that he was out of Virginia, even if it had to be with someone he initially couldn’t stand. 

“Oh,” Ronan said, surprised. He was shirtless. Adam nearly passed out. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Oh,” Adam repeated, even though it made him sound like an idiot. He was realizing now that he did, in fact, think Ronan was hot. “I got finished early.” His attention was drawn to Ronan’s arms, which he kept crossing and uncrossing and crossing again. After a moment, Adam understood why; crisscrossing Ronan’s forearms were countless scars, some old and some new, and Adam felt a kind of pain he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ronan said preemptively. He pulled on a sweater. “Don’t look at me like that, Trailer Park.” Here it was, the defensive side, the side that made Adam hate him.

“I think you need to talk about it,” Adam said, but he was still shocked and he hated the way he said it, like the words didn’t fit right in his mouth, like he was disgusted. 

“No,” Ronan insisted, and wiped his hands on his pants. “I don’t.” 

“This is bad,” Adam said, slowly and too fast all at once. He wanted this to be over, or to have never happened. 

“Don’t say a fucking word, Parrish,” Ronan growled this time, but Adam wanted to say a million words, a billion words, if it would make Ronan’s arms look normal.

“My father hit me,” Adam blurted. As if that would make the situation any better. To this, Ronan stomped across the room and threw the door open. He did not stop in the doorway, no matter how badly Adam wished for him to. The door slammed, and Adam was alone.

—

They didn’t talk until the next morning. Adam had gone to sleep alone and woken up to a heart attack waiting to happen passed out on the bathroom floor. It felt like a rule had been broken, like a line they had been toeing was crossed. Adam didn’t have it in him to be angry anymore. This was a part of Ronan that he wasn’t meant to see, but had anyway, and not because Ronan had trusted him enough to show him, but because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to announce his presence. He didn’t know what to do, so he called Gansey.

“Ronan cuts himself,” he divulged as soon as Gansey picked up. He had gone out onto the front porch and immediately felt guilty for leaving Ronan alone. 

“I know,” Gansey responded. “It’s… It’s been an issue for years. How did you find out?”

“I walked in on him topless.” He couldn’t control his stupid fucking mouth, could he?

“Ah.” It was quiet for a moment. “How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” 

“He left. I thought he might want to be alone.”

“Did he come back?” There was panic in Gansey’s voice.

“Yes,” Adam assured him. Then, quietly, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just. Just be there, okay? I know you don’t really get along, but he might want to talk to you about it. Believe it or not, Adam, he doesn’t hate you,” he said. Blue was calling for him in the background.

“I know,” Adam said. “I know.”

—

Ronan was awake when Adam came back to the room. He had his head in the toilet.

“I know you don’t like me,” Adam said when Ronan was done throwing up. “But if you want to talk about it, we can.”

“Why, so you can tell me about your dad beating you? What’s next, your mom’s a crack whore?” Ronan grinned with too many teeth, wicked and bright. “Trust me, pal, whatever you have to say I’ve heard a thousand times before.” He finished rinsing his hands off and threw himself down at the desk. 

“Really?” Adam challenged. 

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Ronan snapped. “Really.” 

“You’re so full of shit,” Adam mumbled, not intending for Ronan to hear. 

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Parrish,” Ronan snarled. “Why don’t you just go back to hating my guts, that seemed to make you leave me alone.”

“I never hated you.”

“You’re such a goddamn liar.” His eyes were electric. 

“I. Never. Hated. You.” 

Ronan practically flew out of his seat. He had Adam backed against the wall, hands balled up in his collar. A hummingbird took flight behind Adam’s ribs. He was sick to his stomach with something akin to wanting. One of Ronan’s hands loosened on Adam’s collar, just slightly, just enough that it wasn’t aggressive anymore. Was Adam imagining the way Ronan was looking at him? God. The anticipation of _something_ had Adam all knotted up inside. “You drive me fucking crazy, Parrish,” Ronan growled, and let him go. “Jesus. Go do your homework or whatever and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Fuck you, Lynch,” Adam murmured, gathering his school things and heading to the door. His heart still pounded in his chest.

Adam left the room with disappointment pooled in his stomach beside the little ball of desire.

—

He needed to talk to Blue. He had been in the recliner for hours, picking apart his interactions with Ronan. Why had he suddenly started feeling things, good things, about him? Was it because of fucking Gansey and Blue? If so, he would have to strangle them both. And, more glaringly: had Ronan always looked at Adam like that? This was becoming more and more complicated. He pushed a hand through his hair. The news said that the roads would be safe in a day or so, but as far as Adam could tell, no progress had been made around the B&B. Time was running out, but Adam didn’t know what he was counting down to.

Eventually, Ronan came downstairs and sat on the arm of Adam’s chair. He had the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows, exposing the scars lining his forearms. This was, without a doubt, intentional. He played with the leather bands around his wrists. Adam could tell Ronan was saying something, but he was on his left so he couldn’t really hear it. 

“Wait a second,” Adam said, and turned his head to hear better. “Okay. What were you saying?” He couldn’t decide whether or not to be embarrassed. 

“You could just tell me to go away if you don’t want to listen to me,” Ronan complained. 

“I’m deaf in my left ear,” Adam explained, suddenly desperate for Ronan to understand and to stay. “Sorry. I- I thought you knew.” Surely Gansey had mentioned it at some point, or Ronan had noticed that Adam always stood with his head tilted a little. It wasn’t hard to figure out, and Adam had always pegged Ronan as hyper-observant. 

“How the fuck would I know that?”

“I just- I thought it was obvious.”

“Well it wasn’t.” They were quiet for a moment. Adam could tell Ronan was rolling things over in his mind. “When did that happen?”

“When I was leaving for my first semester at Georgetown.” He’d been friends with Gansey for about a year. In fact, Gansey had been picking up Adam to drive up to D.C. when it happened- Robert Parrish screaming, Adam falling, falling, the wet smack of his head against the ground and the _nothing_ in his ear. Their check-in had been delayed by a trip to the hospital and countless hours talking to the police. Gansey, luckily, had connections at Georgetown, and got it smoothed over. Adam was ceaselessly grateful. 

“How?” It occured to Adam that Ronan was stalling, testing the waters before divulging any of his own secrets. 

“My father.” Ronan shifted his position, leaning closer, trusting. What would this look like to a passerby? Adam knew they were speaking quietly enough that anyone outside of the conversation would be hard pressed to hear it, but that didn’t stop the wave of anxiety that hit him. He was totally exposed in that moment.

“I… I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Ronan murmured, apologetic. He rubbed a hand over his close cropped hair. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” 

Adam brought his feet up under himself and slid sideways in the chair, so he could face Ronan fully. The man was apocalyptic, and Adam almost hated himself for thinking he was attractive. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.” 

“I guess we both have daddy issues then, huh?” Ronan shot him a grin that was closer to a grimace. 

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “I guess we do.” 

Ronan sighed and scratched at the inside of his arm. Too aware that time was slipping away from him, Adam bit down the impatience that was threatening to boil over. 

“I called Gansey,” Ronan said. “He said I should talk to you, so. Here we are.”

Should they be having this conversation in the living room? It didn’t feel entirely appropriate, but Ronan didn’t seem to care, so Adam told himself not to, either. Ronan was close enough to touch without meaning to. Adam wanted to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows. The space between them was too much and not enough at once. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to,” Adam said. But he wanted Ronan to tell him, he wanted Ronan’s secrets and fears and goals and lies. 

“I owe you an explanation.” The world was tightening around them, squeezing Adam closer. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning?” Adam suggested. 

Here is how Ronan told the story: when he was sixteen, he found his father, bloodied and dying in the driveway. He wiped brain matter away from his father’s face and prayed the rosary desperately until he had enough strength to howl for help. He moved in with the Gansey’s, because of some weird clause in his father’s will that prohibited the Lynch brothers from returning to their land. Shortly after his father’s death, his mother became catatonic, and stayed that way for around a year. Now she lived with her oldest son, Declan, in D.C., but returned to the Barns (Ronan’s home) a few times a year to visit with him. The drinking started when Ronan was seventeen, the cutting shortly after. Gansey found him, bleeding in his bed one night, and tried to have an intervention. Ronan moved out of Gansey’s place and lived with Kavinsky (the drug dealer) for a while, but obviously that didn’t work out. He moved back in with Gansey for a year, but went back to the Barns for his eighteenth birthday and had lived there ever since. He had yet to stop either of his bad habits. 

“You’re incredible,” Adam breathed. Ronan’s neck flushed. His eyes lit up in a way that made Adam want to launch himself through the plate glass window.

So, Adam was screwed, wasn’t he?

—

Time was funny when you were snowed in. It could have been three in the morning or four in the afternoon for all Adam knew. What he _did_ know, however, was that Ronan Lynch would be the death of him. Because everything was out in the open now, he had taken to lounging around their room topless (or in a stupid fucking muscle tank), the tattoo on his back so distracting that Adam could barely get any work done. Every time he looked up, he would find something new in the design; a beak here, a talon there, the twist of a tree pointing up to the sky. How he had never noticed it before wasn’t clear to Adam, but now that he had seen it, he couldn’t _stop_. And, to top it all off, Ronan kept catching him looking. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, and Adam knew he was joking but he was compelled to say that _yes_ , he did in fact like what he was seeing, so much so that he couldn’t focus on anything else. Ronan had planted himself on the floor beside Adam, who was sitting up on the bed.

Instead, he said, “I guess I just don’t understand tattoos.” Which felt like a safe option, but the look on Ronan’s face said otherwise. 

“Scared of needles, or what?”

“No. I’m already marked for life,” he said, gesturing toward his ear. “And I’d rather not add to that.”

“Jesus, Parrish, lighten up.” Ronan shuffled through one of his bags and pulled out a bottle of wine. Offering it to Adam, who shook his head, Ronan uncorked the bottle. “Suit yourself. More for me, then.”

“Are you really drinking right now?” Adam asked, incredulous. After everything they’d shared with each other, he had expected more of Ronan.

“What else am I supposed to do? We’re snowed in. Besides, wine doesn’t count.” As if to prove his point, he took a swig from the bottle and grinned wolfishly at Adam. Now, he could see teeth in Ronan’s tattoo, curling across one delicate shoulder blade. “Plus, it’s New Years Eve. Practically a crime _not_ to drink.”

“You don’t have to drink to have a good time,” Adam sighed, and took the bottle from Ronan’s hand. This was not cheap wine. From the looks of it, it was meant to be a Christmas present for the Ganseys.

“Prove it,” Ronan challenged. He leaned back against the bed and looked up at Adam, who was ready to bash his fucking teeth in again. “Show me how to have a good time, Trailer Park.”

Adam’s heart dropped into his stomach. He couldn’t make up his mind between being angry and being delirious with want. Ronan was looking at him like he was a car crash, terrible and glorious. Against his better judgement, Adam slid down to the floor beside Ronan. Carefully, he reached up to put the open wine on the nightstand. Was he shaking? Definitely, he was definitely shaking, but why? He waited for the feeling to pass, but anticipation pushed away any chance of relief. Ronan was watching him intently.

“Tell me again that you never hated me,” Ronan murmured, eyes following Adam’s hands. 

“I never hated you,” Adam breathed. Watched Ronan watching him. “I never hated you.” The room was spinning. All he could smell was whatever cologne Ronan wore, and the proximity made him dizzy. He could feel Ronan’s eyes in every nerve ending on his body. Before he knew what was happening, Ronan was leaning forward, and God, Adam wanted this more than anything in the world. He closed his eyes, steadied himself. For once, he was sure of himself. 

Ronan laughed. When Adam opened his eyes, he was greeted by a cackling Lynch with an expensive bottle of wine in his hands. He hadn’t planned on kissing Adam at all, had he? He was just trying to get Adam distracted enough to let his guard down.

“Shit, Parrish, I really had you going for a second, huh?”

What the fuck, he wanted to kiss Ronan Lynch. “Shut the fuck up, Lynch, I knew what you were doing.”

“You’re such a liar,” Ronan laughed, drinking from the bottle. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“No, you have fun getting sloshed by yourself. I’ll be downstairs.” Adam stood abruptly and gathered his school stuff. He would probably sleep downstairs, if he could.

Ronan followed him to the door. “Adam, come on. I was _joking_.”

“Okay, you were joking, whatever. I have shit to do.” He shouldered past Ronan and opened the door, ignoring Ronan’s pleas for him to stay. 

The melt couldn’t come soon enough.

—

Adam ended up calling Blue from the little porch at one in the morning. He was all alone downstairs, bundled up in two blankets. The staff had tried (and failed) to keep him company; obviously they knew something was going on. He hadn’t seen Ronan, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he had snuck out to the car once or twice to get more liquor. At this point, Adam was past caring. He had tried, and Ronan had just fucked with him like it was nothing.

“I was right,” he said when Blue picked up. “I knew he wasn’t good.”

“Adam, what?” He must have woken her up.

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam drawled. He hated that his Henrietta accent slipped through. 

“What _about_ him?” Blue asked, impatiently.

“I was right. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Okay, what happened now?” She yawned through her words.

“He made a fool out of me, that’s what,” Adam said. He wanted to feel more triumphant than he did. 

“What do you mean?” He could tell she was walking, now, probably down to Gansey’s room. Good. He’d be able to tell Gansey that he’d officially tried and failed to be friends with Ronan. Maybe Gansey would finally leave him alone about it. “I’m putting you on speaker phone, okay?”

“Okay, is Gansey with you?”

“Yeah,” Gansey and Blue said together. A sick sense of satisfaction had wiggled its way into Adam.

“What happened?” Gansey asked, so Adam told him. Despite everything that he was saying, the satisfaction gave way to guilt eventually. 

“You should have seen the way he was looking at me, guys, I really thought he- I really thought he wanted me.” 

“Jesus,” Gansey breathed. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

“It’s really fine, Gans, it’s fine, because I wanted-” _to be right_ his brain supplied, not helpfully. “Oh, fuck. I. I wanted him, too.”

“That makes it the opposite of fine, Adam,” Blue said gently. “That makes it terribly _not_ fine.” 

Adam was having heart palpitations. He sat down on the porch and tried to get his head between his knees before this got out of hand. Breathing didn’t come naturally. 

“Adam?” This time it was Gansey, quiet on the other end of the line. “I need you to count for me, okay?” There was no way this was happening right now. He hadn’t had a panic attack in months. 

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. In four hold seven out eight. In four hold seven out eight. “I just- I just need a minute.” He pushed a shaking hand through his hair. 

“What do you see?” Gansey asked. “Tell me five things.”

“My hands, the snow, my blanket, the sky, my shoes,” Adam rattled off dutifully. 

“Four things you feel.”

“The cold, the wind, my clothes, my heart.” They went through the rest of the list, taking their time and repeating the process when Gansey felt it necessary. Adam wished they’d never met those Psych kids. More than half an hour passed before the shaking stopped. 

“You need to go inside,” Gansey chided. “It’s below freezing.”

“I can’t go back to our room, Gans,” Adam whined. 

“I know it’s hard, but you need to go back and get some sleep. Things are always better in the morning.”

“Said like a true morning person.”

“Goodnight, Adam,” Gansey sighed, and that was when Adam knew he would have to go back inside and face his problems head on.

If only things were that simple, right?

—

Ronan was right where Adam had left him. The bottle of wine sat between his feet, untouched. His head was in his hands.

“I fucked up,” he said when Adam came in. “I really fucked up.”

“I’m tired, Ronan.” He kicked off his shoes and put his school stuff back on the desk. Ronan followed him around the room. Dim light filtered in through the window, casting odd shadows against the walls. In the bathroom, his eyes skipped over the little razor blade sitting on the counter, but found it while he brushed his teeth. Jesus Christ. He picked it up and looked for any sign that it had been used. There weren’t any bandage wrappers in the trash, and Adam didn’t see any blood, but he wasn’t convinced. Was this what Ronan meant when he said he fucked up? 

“Let me see,” Adam demanded when he was finished in the bathroom. “Come on. Arms out.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ronan asked, but held his arms out for Adam to inspect anyway. Nothing new. Relief spread through Adam’s bones. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Not when you leave your shit lying around,” Adam snapped, holding the razor out for Ronan to see. 

“I was going to flush it.”

“Bullshit. When I came back, you were right where I left you.” 

“Yeah, Parrish, but it’s been sitting on the counter since you walked out on me this morning.” He heaved a sigh, feigning exasperation, but Adam could see right through him. “Why do you care, anyway? You don’t even like me.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Adam took the razor back to the bathroom and dropped it in the toilet. “Go on, then. Flush it.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan snarled. If Adam didn’t know better, he would have expected Ronan to spit on him. 

“Flush it.”

“Fine!” Ronan snapped, and slammed the handle down. “Happy?”

“No, relieved.” 

“Nice to know you have so much faith in me, Parrish.” Ronan stomped back into the bedroom and threw himself down onto the floor again. Time passed in tempestuous silence. Eventually, though, Ronan warmed up again.

“You… you really didn’t have to do that. I mean- I just mean that you shouldn’t _worry_ about me like that. I have it under control,” he said, rubbing the scruff at the back of his head. “Sorry.” 

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Adam put down his book and stood from the desk, stretching. Ronan followed suit. They stood together at the window, looking out at the snow. The news said it would be another day at most.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you earlier,” Ronan said sheepishly. Honestly, with the excitement of the last hour, Adam had forgotten all about the wine incident. “Adam, I’m _sorry_.” Did he mean to get that close? Did he even know what he was doing to Adam right now? There was so much that Adam wanted from him, but this, the waiting game, was not one of them. “I- I thought you were interested in me, but clearly I was wrong-”

“You were _wrong_?” Adam asked, surprised. Ronan’s hands, which had been occupied with the leather bands around his wrists, fell to Adam’s hips. They were backed up to the window and there must have been a draft, because cold air slipped through his thin shirt. Adam’s heart pounded furiously in his chest; surely Ronan could hear it.

“Wasn’t I?” Ronan’s voice dropped to a whisper. He was taller than Adam, but he was stooping to maintain eye contact. Adam wanted to look away; he wanted Ronan’s eyes to stay with his forever. “Was I wrong?” He rubbed his thumbs along Adam’s hip bones, dragging a reluctant sigh from his lips.

“No,” Adam breathed. Ronan watched the word leave his mouth. He took one step forward; Adam took one step back. The glass was freezing through Adam’s shirt. One hand raised to Adam’s throat, fingers brushing against his jaw. Desire undid him, making him shake and shiver under Ronan’s hands. He gripped Ronan’s waist to steady himself.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, he thought. Ronan traced the shape of his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Adam hissed. Ronan was close enough that their lips almost, _almost_ touched. They were breathing each other's air. 

“God,” Ronan murmured. “How badly do you want me, Parrish?” Adam’s hands shook as he raised them to run over Ronan’s tattoo, tracing the vicious curve of a wing. He tried to calm himself down before answering, but his voice still broke.

“You have no idea, Lynch.” He watched Ronan lick his lips, wanting to taste him. He realized, with a start, that it had _always_ been Ronan, from the first time they met. God, he’d been too stubborn to realize. There was a beat where nothing new happened, when Adam wasn’t overwhelmed with feelings bigger than he was used to, when he could breathe again. Then Ronan’s mouth was on his, hot and open and perfect. Their teeth crashed together; Adam pulled Ronan closer, closer, closer. Ronan kissed like his life depended on it. He bit back a groan when Ronan dropped his mouth to Adam’s throat, sucking bruises into the delicate skin there. They moved as one, pushing and pulling until they had a rhythm built up and Adam was ready to combust. This was his, his, his, and he made sure Ronan knew it. They kissed like there would be a winner. Somehow, they stumbled to the bed, and Adam was suddenly aware of every inch of his body. Ronan stared down at him, holding him in place by his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” Ronan asked. Even in the darkness, Adam could see the pretty flush to his skin, and wondered if he looked like that, too. 

“Nothing,” Adam assured him. He pulled Ronan down by his hips and kissed him slowly, hungrily. Ronan pulled back, nipped at his lips, his chin, his clavicle. 

“I don’t do casual,” Ronan whispered, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

“Neither do I,” Adam said. He traced Ronan’s cheekbone, sharp enough to cut. Ronan sat up, lifting his muscle top over his head. Now that they had been thoroughly acquainted, they could stand to slow down a little. Propping himself up on one elbow, Adam finally allowed himself to take in the smooth expanse of Ronan’s torso. He knew Ronan was fit, but he honestly hadn’t expected to be so blown away by the curve of muscle pulled taut beneath the skin. Ronan took Adam’s hand and pressed little kisses to his fingertips, a gesture so gentle and soft that Adam’s heart skipped several beats. He wanted to stay this way for as long as it took to get the roads cleared, dissertation be damned. 

Then Ronan pulled Adam’s pointer finger into his mouth and sucked, and every sweet thought he had in his head vanished.

He slid his shirt off. Ronan ran his fingers along Adam’s ribs, raising goosebumps as he went. He left a cluster of hickeys on Adam’s hip bone and pressed kisses into the scar running down his side from the time his father had kicked broken glass into him. Before he could go any further, Adam pulled him back for another kiss, breathless and gasping. 

“Not tonight,” he said when Ronan palmed him through his pajama pants. “As much as I want to, I also want to get some sleep.”

“Mm,” Ronan hummed against Adam’s belly, leaving lazy kisses as he trailed his way back up to Adam’s lips. “I’ll try, but no promises that I’ll sleep at all.” He kissed Adam again, slowly, taking care to linger. 

“Wake me up if you can’t, okay?” Ronan lowered himself to the bed, curling onto his side. Adam threw an arm over his waist and fell sound asleep. 

—

Adam woke up alone. Disappointment made its way through his body, slowly then all at once. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that no one was in bed beside him. Internally, he groaned. He needed to check the time, and the weather, and the road status, but he didn’t want to look around the room and be confronted head on by his loneliness. Soon enough, though, he became tired of lying in bed without reason, so he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

There was Ronan, a plane crash with no survivors, curled up on top of the desk. Adam wasn’t sure if it was endearing or worrisome. He had pulled a sweater on sometime in the night, and made a pillow with one of Adam’s bags. There was nothing in the world that Adam wanted more than to touch him, to wake him gently with kisses, to hold his face and rub the sleep away. But. Maybe there was a reason that Ronan had gotten out of bed. Maybe he was angry with Adam, or maybe he regretted what they did. So, instead of waking Ronan, Adam sat on the edge of the bed and stewed. Overthinking was one of Adam’s greatest skills. Ronan probably thought he was disgusting; dirt poor and unrefined. Hell, he called him Trailer Park. But why would he spend agonizing moments burning the feeling of his lips into Adam’s skin, ushering in bruises that screamed _I belong to someone_? God. Jesus Christ. Adam was so definitely ruined. He went into the bathroom to look at the damage and almost didn’t recognize the man he saw in the mirror. Gone were the haunted eyes, replaced instead with something warmer, lighter. He stretched his neck, watched the hickeys move with him. To his surprise, he found himself incredibly pleased with how they looked against his dusty skin. He would have to borrow a sweater from Ronan to cover it up. Or, he could just leave it out in the open, let people see it. Gansey would have a stroke. Adam hadn’t expected that making out with someone would be able to affect him so strongly, but here he was, ogling himself in the mirror. He wanted Ronan beside him to see what he’d done. 

When he came out of the bathroom, Ronan was sitting up on the desk, staring at his hands. Adam sat next to him without asking if that was okay, but Ronan didn’t seem to mind. He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him, and he wanted to turn and look, to snap, to tell him to cut it out. _He wants to kiss you_ , a treacherous part of Adam said. The anticipation was lighting him up from the inside out. He wanted to say _you’re allowed to touch me_ , to take Ronan’s hands and put them on his body. He wanted to beg Ronan to unravel him the way he did last night, to take him apart piece by piece until Ronan held his heart in his hands. He wanted slow, burning, lingering. Gently, Ronan touched one of the hickeys in Adam’s throat. 

“I thought I dreamed you,” Ronan breathed, and Adam lost his composure completely. He melted under Ronan’s touch, folding into him without even thinking. Ronan finally got the hint, and kissed him, hard. There was a sigh somewhere between them, but Adam couldn’t tell who it came from. 

This time, when Ronan pressed him into bed, Adam was the one to ask for more.

—

When the roads were cleared later that day, anxiety pulsed through Adam, white hot and awful. 

“What’s wrong?” Ronan hummed, kissing up the length of Adam’s spine. They had been lying together in their bed for hours. 

“We can leave,” Adam said. It felt like saying _we don’t have to do this_. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” His fingers skipped over Adam’s belly. Adam shrugged. “Adam.”

“I just feel like once we leave, we won’t have this anymore,” he whispered. Ronan’s arm tightened around him. The world felt a little brighter.

“I told you, I don’t do casual,” Ronan assured him. “If you’re in this, I’m in this, too.”

“I’m in it.”

“Good.”

—

The drive up to Gansey’s took longer than it should have, but that’s because Ronan kept stopping to kiss Adam silly. By the time they arrived at the cabin, Adam was ready to jump him.

“Ronan,” he gasped, because they were standing on Gansey’s doorstep and Ronan had his hands up the back of Adam’s shirt, cold and insistent. 

“Just one more,” Ronan pleaded, kissing the corner of Adam’s mouth. 

Adam turned his head, caught Ronan by the wrist. “Someone is going to see us.”

“As if they won’t be able to tell as soon as we walk in.” Ronan rolled his eyes but conceded, taking a minimal step away. He kept his hand on the small of Adam’s back, steadying him while they waited. It took every ounce of self control Adam had to keep himself from falling to his knees and doing dirty things to Ronan right then and there. 

It took less than a second for Gansey to figure out what had happened. Maybe it was Ronan’s hand on his waist. Maybe it was the self-satisfied smirk he wore. Maybe (probably) it was the hickeys on Adam’s throat, which he hadn’t been able to hide with Ronan’s sweater.

“Oh!” Gansey said. Surprised. Like he hadn’t expected things to actually happen between them. 

“Can we come in, or…?” 

“Oh, of course, of course!” Gansey lead the way inside, pausing to introduce his parents, as if Adam and Ronan hadn’t met them a hundred times already. The cabin was warm, but not the lived-in coziness that the B&B had been. Blue was in the kitchen, eating the plain yogurt the Ganseys had started keeping in stock for her. “Make yourselves at home.” 

The rest of the night was easy. Gansey kept looking at them like he couldn’t believe his eyes, but Blue told everyone she knew it was going to happen. “Come on,” she said, holding her hand out to Gansey. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“You placed bets on us?” Adam exclaimed. “Jesus, Blue.”

She shrugged. “We were snowed in, what else were we supposed to do?”

Ronan barked a laugh. The sound was startling, coming from him. “Sorry.”

“It’s nice to see you happy,” Gansey said, after he’d had a glass or two of brandy spiked eggnog. “Both of you.”

All Adam wanted was some alone time with Ronan, but the way things were looking, that wasn’t going to happen until Gansey was thoroughly satisfied by what he saw. Blue, picking up on his desperation, tried getting Gansey to come to bed, but to no avail. 

“Blue, Blue,” he said, petting her hair away from her face. “It’s just so _nice_. It’s so nice for people to be in love, for my best friends to be in love-”

“Gans, hey, stop.” Blue kissed his forehead, and he looked at her like she put the stars in the sky. “No one said anything about love, babe.” To Adam and Ronan, she said, “Sorry, guys, he gets like this when he drinks.”

“I know,” Adam and Ronan said together. 

Love, huh? That didn’t sound too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I wrote this fic in about a day and a half. A short and sweet lil angsty one shot, mostly self indulgent, seemed like a good Christmas present to myself. Feel free to message me on tumblr @paast-lives !


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